


Christmas With The Egos

by spellboundnora



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, CrankGameplays egos, Fluff, Jacksepticeye egos, M/M, Markiplier egos - Freeform, also markiplier manor is totally mark's egos' headquarters and you can fight me about this, and the markiplier and jacksepticeye egos just like hang out every so often, and they know they're egos, and well their families are kinda fictionalized in canon, au where all the egos know each other, au where the egos have fictionalized families, i included every ego i knew of at the time, i mean we don't really know if they know they're egos in canon, nora's old stuff, sassy mystery narrator, to be fair i didn't know ethan had any other egos besides blank so i didn't include them, who gives a shit it's a christmas au it's full of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:29:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellboundnora/pseuds/spellboundnora
Summary: It's Christmas, and all of the egos have been invited to a party at Markiplier Manor, the headquarters of Mark's egos. Gratuitous amounts of fluff and a sassy but misunderstood narrator.





	Christmas With The Egos

Ah, Christmas. The one time everybody actually gets along. Ever since the Egoiplier meeting a few weeks ago where they discussed having a Christmas party, and Darkiplier begrudgingly suggested Markiplier Manor as a spot to host it, everyone’s been on board trying to get it set up. We take you now to that very house, Christmas Eve, at about seven pm. The Jacksepticegos arrived about an hour ago, and now, the party’s in full swing.

Marvin the Magician has just conjured up a blanket of fake snow out in the yard and is building a snowman with Mark Bop, who’s babbling in that strange language that only he can understand. I heard they’re trying to teach the poor kid sign language, seeing as he either can’t or refuses to learn English. Jameson Jackson, who seems to have become fast friends with the babbling ego, perhaps over their shared speaking conditions, has noticed the snow and is making snow angels. Jameson signs something to Mark Bop, and Mark Bop babbles for a minute before hesitantly signing something back, making both Marvin and Jameson beam. I guess Marvin knows sign language as well. And now they’re hugging. Could this get any closer to a Hallmark movie moment?

We now take you inside the house, where Wilford Warfstache, verifiable psychopath, has a captive audience of both Jims, not that I’ve ever seen one without the other, and is telling them stories about Krampus, who, according to him, is an old friend from college. Oh, the good old days of demon college? The whole thing makes no sense, especially since Wil isn’t even a demon, or at least he wasn’t the last time I checked, but he’s succeeded in scaring the living daylights out of the naive Jims, who will probably now have nightmares about Krampus for the next week. Good going, Wilford.

Oh, finally, a responsible adult ego. Googleplier is in one of the manor’s living rooms and is furiously wrapping presents, while a nervous-looking Silver Shepard brings him mug after mug of hot chocolate, which Google proceeds to chug before going back to wrapping. Though the hot chocolate could easily be coffee, from here it’s hard to tell. Or maybe it’s just spiked and Google just wants to get really, really drunk. Silver is getting more and more agitated as the mugs start to pile up, it’s quite hilarious. Eventually, he just takes about eight used mugs in his arms and carefully carries them out to the kitchen, where he proceeds to wash them out and refill them with hot chocolate, bringing them back out one by one.

Also in the kitchen, Artiplier is baking tray after tray of Christmas cookies, cutting them into various shapes while a confused Robbie the Zombie watches on. Arty eventually gives Robbie a finished, beautifully iced cookie, and the zombie takes a bite as if he’s not sure what to expect. His eyes light up, and he mumbles something, to which Arty leads him over to the cookie cutters and guides him through the process. They complete the next batch together, and Robbie even helps ice them, although he’s not as good as Artiplier, of course, he still manages to get the job done. Arty smiles at him, and they start on the next batch. They’re soon a well-oiled team, Robbie cutting the cookies and putting them in the oven, and Arty icing them, intricate designs made from sprinkles and buttercream icing of every color of the rainbow decorating the freshly baked cookies.

Meanwhile, on the not-so-pure side of things, Antisepticeye has just spiked the eggnog by pouring an entire bottle of Jack Daniels into it. And yes, I see the pun there. But more on that later, I’m sure this situation will provide for an extraordinarily fun night.

We now momentarily take you outside of Markiplier Manor, to the local Target, where pandemonium has erupted, and, unsurprisingly, it appears to be Yandereplier’s fault. Yandere has now threatened three shoppers with their katana, and Ed Edgar, who appears to have been sent to keep an eye on them, is desperately trying to defuse the situation. I never thought I’d see the day where Ed Edgar was the reasonable one in any situation, but here we are. The item that Yandereplier appears to be ready to kill for is… a Furby. Oh, god, it’s a Furby. I would question why Yandereplier thinks that’s a good last-minute Christmas present, but since when have they made any sense? Ed Edgar appears to now be giving the traumatized shoppers cash, throwing some at the register, and dragging Yandere and the Furby out of the store. Man, I didn’t know they still even made Furbies. I thought they all died back in 2012. Ed Edgar now appears to be lecturing Yandere about how many people they just had to pay off and how much “profits” they lost. I don’t think I even want to know what these profits are from. I’m just going to hope they’re from Mark’s YouTube channel. I still wonder who’s going to open their present on Christmas day and receive a slightly bloody Furby.

In an office of the manor that seems familiar, but you can’t place why, the Host is narrating himself while already planning out the New Years Eve party that will be held here in a few days time. I’m pretty sure he’s been in here since before the Jacksepticegos arrived. He hasn’t come out to enjoy the party at all, he’s just been narrating various party supplies that write themselves down into a neat list on the desk, and making notes about possible bartenders and musicians to book, mumbling something about classical music being the only thing they play or so help him god. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door of the office, which startles the Host out of his rambling and he narrates the door to open, only to find Bim Trimmer standing there holding two mugs of what appears to be the spiked eggnog, although Bim certainly doesn’t know that. What follows is a disgustingly adorable display of affection between the two of them as they socialize while drinking eggnog, and Bim tells the Host not to overwork himself and to come out and enjoy the party. Now I’m not sure if a ship between two egos of the same person is like incest or not, but I can definitely tell you, it looks like Bim has already had a few mugs of eggnog, and is slightly tipsy. You get the gist. Disgustingly adorable, like I said.

Back out in the living room, Bingiplier has apparently challenged Dr. Iplier to a drinking contest, having noticed the eggnog is spiked, and Dr. Iplier has declined because of alcohol intolerance, which is strange because shouldn’t that also mean Bing can’t drink? I’m not entirely sure how that works, but I can tell you that Bing is chugging eggnog like his life depends on it. And now Bing is running to the bathroom, about to puke, and Dr. Iplier is reluctantly following him, saying something about how he knew this would happen. Bing is now throwing up spiked eggnog and Dr. Iplier is offering mostly unhelpful advice. See, I knew this would turn out hilarious.

The other doctor, Dr. Schneeplestein, is in the living room where Bing just chugged eggnog, and after being slightly amused at that situation, has gone back to reading some large, medical-looking book. He appears to be sulking and every so often mumbles something about this whole thing being stupid, Christmas being useless, or him being dragged to this party. Jackaboyman now appears to be approaching him. Let’s get a look at this juicy dialogue.   
“Henrik, why are you pouting?”

“I’m not pouting, Jackie, I’m sulking. There’s a difference.”

“It’s Christmas, Henrik, the least you can do is have a little fun.”

“I can’t have fun, I’m allergic to it.”

“Cut the sarcasm, Henrik, what’s wrong? I haven’t seen you this down since you played that surgeon simulator game on the computer and you lost your patient.”

“Jackie, don’t remind me of that. It’s just, I don’t understand the point of Christmas. I mean, none of us are very religious, so why celebrate it? It’s just an excuse to tell people to buy you stuff that you could’ve just bought yourself.”

“Henrik, you don’t understand. It’s not about the gifts. It’s not even about the religious part of it, or at least it isn’t for us. It’s about all of us being together, telling Christmas stories we’ve all heard ten thousand times and having fun. Christmas is about family. It’s about having fun with people you care about.”

“That’s nice and all, Jackie, but it’s not like that for me. There’s no Christmas magic. There’s no believing in Santa Claus, and there never was. There were no Christmas stories, I don’t even know if I can name more than five Christmas songs. This is just such a new thing for me. I know most of the other septic egos understand Christmas, maybe not Robbie, but we can’t blame him for that, but I just don’t have that. I’ve never really celebrated it, not in the life fabricated for me when I became an ego. The Schneeplestein family, though they don’t exist, never celebrated Christmas, so I don’t have any memories, even fictional ones, of it.”

“Henrik, why didn’t you just tell me? Are you Jewish, should we find a menorah?”

“No, no, I’m not Jewish, it’s just I never celebrated it, so I don’t understand it.”

“Well, I’m going to help you to understand. I’m going to tell you all of the Christmas stories I know, and we can learn all of the Christmas songs, and by the time it’s midnight, you will have understood the true meaning of Christmas. But only if you want to, of course.”

“Sure, Jackie. I’ll learn what Christmas means. It sure beats reading this, anyway.”

Aww, look at them, cute and pure and all hung-up on Christmas. I’m pretty sure I’ve already said this, but it’s like something out of a Hallmark movie. Jackieboyman is going to teach Dr. Schneeplestein the true meaning of Christmas, and I’m sure they’ll fucking kiss under the mistletoe at midnight, too, because all of this is just too perfect. Look, let’s just… find someone else to focus on.

Ahh, there’s King of the Squirrels, sitting by the fireplace. He’s in a room all to himself, but the fireplace is lit. Perhaps one of the egos magically lit every fireplace in the house when they first got here. King appears to be writing something on a piece of paper, his handwriting messy, like a child’s. Chase Brody enters the room and flops onto an armchair, lightly dusted with snow, to which I realize that yes, it has been snowing for a while. Not sure if it’s somebody’s magic, seeing as a good half of them are reality benders, and there is one genuine magician, or mother nature just adding to the show. When King notices Chase in the room, he keeps writing for a minute, before getting up and bringing his paper over to Chase.

“Is this… good? Did I get everyone? I know not all of them wrote letters, so I included them in mine.”

King hands his paper to Chase, who reads it aloud.

“Dear Santa,  
This year, what I want is for everyone to be happy. I want my squirrel subjects to get all of the food they need. I want Mark Bop to learn how to sign. I want the Jims to take a big case. I want Arty to make a really good painting that he likes that doesn’t have the red man he keeps getting scared of. I want Ed Edgar to not have to worry about his profits. I want Dr. Iplier to be able to say people are going to make it instead of telling everyone they’re dying. I want Silver Shepard to save the world, and get all of the recognition he deserves. I want Bim to be happy instead of anxious all the time from working for Wil. I want Wilford to produce a sequel to Markiplier TV and have tons of fun working on it. I want the Host to be able to see but still retain his powers because they’re awesome. I want Google to be able to feel emotions better because he’s not good at that. I want Yandere to finally be happy with their senpai. I want Dark to be able to take over the channel and express emotions that aren’t anger. And I want all of the other egos that are visiting to be happy, too, even if I don’t know what they want. And for me, all I want is a tree house in that big tree in the courtyard of the Egoplier building, so I can sleep there more comfortably.  
I hope you get this,  
KING”

“So is it good?”

“It’s beautiful, King. You know, you remind me of my kids. You just want everybody to get along. I think you should definitely send this, I’ll even help you mail it.”

And now they’re hugging. It’s stupid that everything has to end up so happy. They’re all perfectly fine without me being here, I’m not even sure why I showed up. I’m just the narrator of a fluffy Christmas story, after all. Just here to provide witty commentary. Just here to sit on the roof, in the snow, and look down, sensing everyone below me, having fun. Thank god my powers come in handy, somehow, right?

But, strangely, I sense someone coming up the stairs to the roof. Who else would want to remove themselves from the party when all the fun is down there? It’s probably a Septic Ego, coming to tell me that I need to “believe in the spirit of Christmas” because all of the septic egos are all so nice and pure. Even their demon doesn’t do anything more than cause a little mayhem now and again. But the door opens, and it’s the one person I haven’t heard from all night.

“Hello there, Dark,” I say to the suit-clad figure standing on the roof.

“Nice to see you, it’s been a while. I guess you’re not much of a party-goer too, huh?”

“Not exactly. It’s not like any of them noticed I showed up. Half of them probably aren’t even aware of my existence. They’re all caught up in their own worlds, writing letters to Santa, baking cookies, and figuring out the true meaning of Christmas. There’s even some stupid fucking romantic action down there, it’s like a Hallmark Christmas movie.”

“Spying on the egos, now are we? And don’t tell me Bim and the Host already hooked up and I missed it, I’ve been waiting for that all night. I knew it was going to happen as soon as Anti spiked the punch. Bim’s such a lightweight, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he was spilling his feelings.”

“You knew about that? And it wasn’t weird? It’s not weird that two egos from the same person are hooking up? That’s not like incest or anything?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m sure you heard Dr. Schneeplestein’s whole conversation about fictionalized past lives. Well, we all technically have families. They just don’t exist. They only exist in our minds, and only started existing there when we came into existence. None of us are related, except the Jim twins, so it’s completely fine.”

“Okay, that makes more sense. You know that I just don’t understand those things.”

“It’s completely normal for us, but I do understand how it could be weird for you. You really should rejoin the party. You say people don’t acknowledge your presence, but that’s because you don’t let them. Come down, have some fun.”

“You know what, I think I will. You can go back down, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Alright, see you in a few, BlankGamePlays.”

“I’ve told you so many times, just call me Blank.”

“Fine, fine, but you better get down here before Wil and Anti have a drinking contest. It’s going to happen in a few minutes and it’s going to be great.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

And with that, I stopped being the narrator in other people’s lives and started being one of my own. I rejoined the party. I had fun. I laughed when Anti puked on the carpet. I didn’t even cringe when I saw Dr. Schneeplestein and Jackieboyman share a small kiss under the mistletoe at midnight. I actually gave them a thumbs up. I had a good Christmas.


End file.
